Damn taxes. Despite all the soul-sucking number crunching done by Dave and me at FreeTaxUSA, not only are we behind financially but also we’re behind on dinner. “Let’s remember next year when we say ‘let’s do taxes” that means we’re going be in a bad mood for the rest of the day,” Dave says whileContinue reading “Hardly Harder”
Category Archives: Writings
Average Joe Schmoe
I’m tongue-tied; these dang dead-end thoughts are forcing me up against a wall. Also, I feel vulnerable; a shaky chest coupled with dagger thoughts point out that I’m the problem. Even though they’re irrational, my mind can’t help but slam puzzle pieces in places where they don’t belong. I rarely watch tv, and even rarerContinue reading “Average Joe Schmoe”
Mom’s Weekend
I’ve been primed for a night like tonight. Years ago, once a pig-tailed girl, I’d run down our graveled driveway, hop a ditch into the neighbor’s yard, and sprint their manicured lawn with one thing in mind as I knocked, “Can Samantha play?’ Until the Stottolemyre’s moved in next door, living in the country meantContinue reading “Mom’s Weekend”
Rug Rat Havoc
Two naked toddlers bounce on a pulled out futon while singing “I like to move it, move it,” the final dance number for the characters in Madagascar. It’s bedtime, but you couldn’t guess by their excitement. Ethan and Evelyn are best buds, as Lindsay and myself are, so a recently planned getaway has us allContinue reading “Rug Rat Havoc”
The Ride
On your tippy toes, you reach, and your sight line raises just above a blanket of billowing clouds that are tucking in the land. You are a bird, the tip of the tallest tree, the hiker at the tallest peak, backstroking, and whales spouting into the infinitely available. Here, perceptive as preying panthers, are CanadaContinue reading “The Ride”
The Touch The Feel
Writing is a meditative space where I feel for words. It’s been this way ever since I was around age eight. One of my first entries was about an injured bird I’d made a home in a shoebox for that later died. Through my grief, I wrote and then circled a teardrop that soggied theContinue reading “The Touch The Feel”
No Filter
I don’t want to write. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to write. Write I don’t. I don’t write. Want. Want. To Write. Want, want, want. To, to, to. I’m not supportive enough. I’m a shitty friend. I stop. What am I doing? Stream of consciousness. Is thisContinue reading “No Filter”
We Are The Champions
“Good luck,” they say, pedaling lightly backward, hand patting for the nob, it turns, “You’ll have your work cut out with this one.” Then the door slams. I’m given the troublemakers, the ones that can’t be helped. They come to me diagnosed, undisciplined, and dirty. The razors to the wrists and manufactured poisons have renderedContinue reading “We Are The Champions”
I See Dead People
For those of you not privy to the characteristics of seed swap attendees, think of a cross between Renaissance fairgoers, commune guitar pickers, and librarian tote-slinging afternoon tea drinkers. Where I fall may be a mashup of all three. As the vest-wearing creators of the event cuddled up to smile for a selfie, I imaginedContinue reading “I See Dead People”
My Heart Will Go On
I’m not a fan of kids’ cartoons; they’re too mile-a-minute for my taste. After a bender on cocaine-laced meth, it’s as if the show’s creators speed into the drawing table and get cracking (pun intended). Enter the slow-paced, real-to-life, problem-solving, thoughtful, and visually captivating show Tumble Leaf. Instead of wanting to scratch my eyeballs out,Continue reading “My Heart Will Go On”
Going On 40 